I Ate Every One Of My Friends' Souls

Topics: relationships

2012-06-04

> The head of the table is behind me pulling my strings and I grapple equally for control and obedience as the seated ghosts fling themselves at a meal.

Ghosts are the fleshy remains of dessicated bodies ground into meal for processing into breadstuffs. These fleshy remains drift through the world, passing in and and of the minds of the undessicated as all beings with souls do.

As all food does, the breadstuffs created from dessicated beings is processed slowly in the minds of the undessicated. We use it to expand our mental faculties and once the nourishment is finished, the taste slowly wanes into forgetfulness. The neural passages grow, sure. Other breadstuffs from the dessicated further nourish. Tastes are archetypes which remind of old meals. Therefore, each living creature, once processed, is filed away under a hierarchy of tastes.

Categorization is the only way to cope with limitless stimuli used as food.

tzifur (Martenblog home)

jenju (Thurk.Org home)

@flavigula@sonomu.club

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